


Emeralds

by Szeszely



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Concentration Camps, Footy Ficathon, Freedom, Happy Ending, Historical Accuracy, Historical References, Law Enforcement, Love Letters, M/M, Reunions, Running Away, Secret Relationship, Suffering, Sunshine - Freeform, The Ache in Your Legs Footy Ficathon, War, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:47:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2561864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Szeszely/pseuds/Szeszely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1939. Gliwice<br/>After several months of hoping and waiting, Lukas finally gets Bastian and they spend a night together. When they wake up in the morning, it's September 1 and WWII has just begun.<br/>Do not expect a crackfic.</p><p>Inspired by lunasenzanotte's prompt on the footy ficathon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Emeralds

**Author's Note:**

> Also, English is not my first language. Hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

**31/08/1939**

  
He’s here with me, at last, after all those months of flirting and seeking touches in the office. He’s here, in my bed, eyes full of heat and want, lips slightly parted, hair messed-up and I have never seen such a mind-blowing beauty.

_“Lukas…”_

He whispers into my ear and I can’t help kissing him again for the umpteenth time this evening. I know he wants it too, he says so for God’s sake, and I gladly comply. I don’t think this is sinful, how could it be? How could something so electrifying be considered as a sin?

He says he doesn’t care about Paragraph 175. That’s a sin, he says, creating laws against people who are different; persecute them just because they want to be complete and happy in their own way. I believe him, would believe in anything he says; that the sky is green, the grass is blue, that he’s not German and I’m not Polish.

_“Just be yourself, Lukas, with me tonight. Be free…”_

I hear his words echoing in my ears and I finally let go of myself, lose all my self-control and it’s over. I’m sure this night changes my life, our lives, and I will never be the same again.  
But what I don’t know is how many lives will be changed when the morning comes.

 

 

**01/09/1939**

  
I have to squint in the dazzling light when I open my eyes. I stir and first don’t know what holds my left hand down on the bed. Then I see him, sleeping quietly by my side, with his arm draped over my chest. His hair is like spun gold in the sunshine and I can’t look away from the tiny smile on his lips. As if he knows I’m watching, he opens his eyes and looks up into mines.

 _“ ‘Morning sunshine.”_ I say. He blinks and casts down his gaze, like he is embarrassed.

 _“Lukas. Good morning to you too.”_ His hold on me tightens for a brief moment before he sits up and starts rambling. _“Um, you know, I’m really sorry that I fell asleep and stayed here, I will just grab my things now and…”_

I take hold of his chin and silence him with the sweetest morning kiss I’ve ever had.

 _“Don’t go. We can have breakfast together.”_ I murmur against his lips and he nods after searching my eyes for a moment. _“You can turn on the radio until I make an omelette.”_ We share one more kiss before I scramble up and walk into the kitchen.  
I hear the crackling sounds when he tries to find the right frequency and then the spoon falls out of my hand.

_"Attention! This is Gliwice. The broadcasting station is in the Polish hands..."_

I run back to where he stands still like a statue and we listen in silence as the news go on about the happenings of last night and that the Wehrmacht is already inside the country. That Germany declared war against Poland.  
I look at him and he looks back at me. I’m Polish and he’s German. He has the brightest green eyes I’ve ever had the chance to see and now I know I’m doomed. I’m in love with my enemy.

 _“I can’t go back. I won’t fight against your country.”_ He says and in his expression I see the same pain that I feel. _“I can’t, Lukas, I can’t…”_ He steps forward and I embrace him as tight as I can.

 _“I know.”_ I kiss his neck and close my eyes. _“I know. We will figure out something. There has to be a solution, there’s always one.”_ I try to appear calm and sanguine, more for myself than for him.  
We hold each other close, not ever wanting to let go, but I know he can’t stay. He have to flee, we both have to, because once we are under German authority, our lives are sealed, even if we don’t fight. Paragraph 175.

 

 

**02/09/1939**

  
He stands on the threshold and his despondent face shatter my heart into pieces. He wraps his arms around my neck maybe for the last time and I try to bite back my tears.

 _“Lukas, I…”_ He takes a deep breath, struggling with the words he so desperately wants to say. _“I will never forget you. I will write every week of every month to you and send them to your cousin’s address in Russia. I’m sure you will make it there and get through this in safe.”_

I can’t say anything, my reply stuck in my mouth as I bury my face in his neck, trying to memorise the feel of his skin against mine, the strains of his hair between my fingers, his smell… Our moment is over, he has to go and I just stand there as he turns and takes the road. The forest is close and he almost disappears and I can’t let him go like this, I have to make sure that we will meet when this monstrosity is over, I have to.  
I run after him, catching his arm just a step from the trees. His emerald eyes are wide in surprise and I kiss him desperately for the last time, trying to say everything I feel and hope and want without words.

 _“I’ll wait for you when it’s over. I’ll wait at the Fontanna z trzema faunami the first day of every month at seven in the morning. I’ll wait for you.”_ I passionately whisper and he bumps our foreheads together.

 _“And I’ll be there. I promise I will be there.”_ He caresses my cheek and disappears into the forest.

 

 

**01/09/1944**

Sometimes I wish I was dead. I wish I was amongst those who are scattered around on the ground with a bullet in their brains or gas in their lungs. I wish I was back in Russia, killed in a fight to get back my subjugated home or the people I love, instead of being here with a pink triangle over my heart and a dead body in my arms. Paragraph 175.

I stagger towards the pit, carrying a boy who told me yesterday how he killed his little sister to save her from the evils in the black uniform. I drop him in and I would shed a tear for him if I had one left, but I have run out of them a long time ago. I hear running fire and I flinch, looking over nervously. A body in striped rags falls to the ground a few meters from the barbed wire. I get a strike from the lieutenant next to me which means that the body has to follow the boy’s lead. When I pick the man’s corpse up and I realise it can’t weight much more than his bones, once again, I wish I was dead.

But then I remember why I’m not that man, or the boy, or anybody in the pit. Why I don’t give up. Because I have never told him those three words I always knew to be true. We get a fifteen minutes break until they change the guards. I hide in a corner of the barrack between two bunks and carefully dig a little hole where I know my only and most precious possession lies. I slowly pull out the sheet and caress those neat lines on it.

I could have never read the whole letter, the last I received before the SS caught me, and the ink started to fade away, it’s barely legible now. But I can clearly make out the last sentence, even in the dark, because it burnt into my memory: _“I’ve loved you from the first time we met, I love you now and I will love you forever, Lukas. Your Bastian”_  
The only reason I’m still alive is that I want to tell him. I want to tell him that I feel the same, that I love him, that I don’t care about Paragraph 175 either. I want to see the belief in those emerald eyes again as I vow to wait.

I hear yelling from outside and I hurriedly bury Bastian’s letter back into the very same ground that covers the outcomes of the real sin. The bones of my peers, those who were banned from being alive.  
I get up, go out and pick up the next body behind the gas chamber, surrounded by the laughter and insults of the officers, but I won’t give up. I have to tell him.

 

 

**27/01/1945**

  
I knew something was coming when suddenly the trains were not coming in, only going out crowded with people. There were less and less of us and I knew I had to avoid being taken away if I wanted to get free. Somehow I managed to hide when the officers sent away the last march and today, ten days from that, the Red Army reached us. The infantry unit 322 released us.  
I am free, we are free and it’s over, we can go home. If there’s still a home left for us.

 

 

**01/09/1945**

  
The war ended on the 8th of May with the unconditional German surrender.

I was still in the Soviet military hospital I had been taken to from the camp, when the radio announced the news. I was more relieved than happy and the only thing I could think of was my promise to Bastian. Despite how much I tried to recover faster, I only managed to leave the hospital in the middle of June.  
I travelled back to Gliwice with my heart aching and soul wounded by the sight of my damaged hometown, but I couldn’t help a sigh of relief when I spotted the fountain intact.  
In the past two months I started repairing my house so it’s habitable now. I’m here by the fountain, like I have been in July and August. I prayed and I hope he will be here this time, but I will come here every month even if he will never come at all. I pull out his creased letter from my packet for the hundredth time this morning and read it again, trying to spell out the beginning.

 _“Your Bastian…”_ I whisper when I reach the signing. I sigh and close my eyes.

Six years ago, we met here before that fateful night, when everything changed. Six years of pain, fight and death – six years of war has passed and I try to remember him. I try to remember his laugh, his voice, the feel of his lips against mine, but the only thing I can clearly recall is his smell. His smell from that morning when I woke up and the sun was shining exactly like it shines now, as if it didn’t know what was about to happen in the future. When the birds sang, the wind wasn’t cold and he said my name…

_“Lukas.”_

My eyes burst wide open and I have to jump up. He’s here, right in front of me, in an English uniform with a bandage on his right arm. Our eyes meet and I feel like six years have never passed, those emeralds are gleaming like they did back then and this is too much for me to handle anymore. I wrap my arms around him and my tears are flooding unstoppably while his smell surrounds me again, and oh, it’s the same that I remember.

 _“I’m here, my God, I’m here finally.”_ He whispers and I pull away slightly just to crash our lips together. Our kiss is salty and when we break apart I saw his cheeks glisten with tears, as well as mines. He’s beautiful, and I’m happy and content, and there’s no Paragraph 175 for us anymore, it’s over and we’re free. I look into his eyes and with all the emotion I can put into one sentence, I tell him those words that kept me alive.

_“I love you, Bastian Schweinsteiger.”_

His lips curve up into a smile and he’s laughing now and it feels like my heart is singing. He heals all of my wounds.

 _“I love you too, Lukas Podolski.”_  
 


End file.
